Closet Monster

            Ilana has another pet who isn’t part of our pack. He lives in the closet. He must like dark places. I don’t understand why, I love the sun, so much so that Ilana sometimes calls me a cat. I let her get away with it because she’s my person, but it’s such an insult, I hate hearing it.

            The monster comes out once a week. I don’t understand weeks the way humans do, but I know it’s been a week because Ilana sleeps in instead of getting up early, putting on nice clothes, and leaving me stuck in a crate all day. Just because I didn’t hold my bladder once, got into the garbage once, counter surfed a couple times, opened some doors I wasn’t supposed to (one of them being the refrigerator), ate the eyes off of one or two stuffed animals that weren’t mine, and attempted a decapitation of another one…I have to be in a stinking crate all day during the week when Ilana is at work. But not on the weekend! I even get to sleep in her bed in the morning on the weekend! So, that’s how I know the pet monster comes out once a week, on the weekend.

            He’s sort of tall, but very skinny. He walks pretty funny with his mouth on the floor and back-end in the air and his tail is so long that Ilana has to wind it up around him when he goes back in the closet. She named him Dyson.

            Yesterday was a weekend and Ilana took Dyson out right on schedule. She unwound his tail and put it in the wall and then he woke up. I despise it when he wakes up. I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand why Ilana keeps him. All he does is roar and growl and fuss and make such a racket I can barely hear myself bark, let alone think!

            Ilana started pushing Dyson around the house, feeding him. He loves to eat dust, paper bits, dirt, and girl hair. His favorite food is dog fur though. It’s a treat for him and Ilana loves to feed him treats. She gives him all the dog fur I worked hard to shed on the couch. I can’t believe he never gets bigger with all the dog fur he eats.

            I’m worried that since he likes dog fur so much, he’ll decide one day that he should just skip the floor and the couch and go right to the source. I do not want to be monster food. So when he roared at me yesterday, I fought back. I attacked him on the corner of his mouth. I bit down hard but Dyson didn’t stop. He wasn’t fazed at all.

            I let go and took a few steps back to reorient myself.

Again he roared and headed straight for me.

I growled a warning but Dyson didn’t listen. He rammed into my paws and I bit at him again. Biting and dancing so he couldn’t eat my toes. Biting and dancing. Biting and dancing. Dyson was not giving up.

Then Ilana broke into our fight, “MIKA QUIT IT!” she yelled.

“How can you let this monster do this to me? He’s going to eat me! Can’t you see that? He might even want to eat you! I can’t let that happen to either of us,” I barked back, deep and loud so she could hear me.

“QUIT IT!” was all she yelled back.

            I love Ilana. I’d do anything for her and I’m so stressed when we’re separated that I’m going grey way too fast, but she’s not always the brightest. That’s why it’s even more important for me to protect her in situations like this. I wish she could understand dog language. It would make things much easier.

            “I’m sorry but it’s for your own good!” I told her. I’m sure all she heard was, “Roo woo rouf rouf rouf!” I turned back to the monster who had gotten away during our conversation. Bounding toward the couch I intercepted him and attacked again.

            “MIKA, I’M COUNTING TO THREE. ONE…TWO…” Ilana boomed.

I hate when she counts. I let go of Dyson’s mouth and backed away. I don’t know what happens when she gets to three but I’m sure it’s infinitely worse than getting eaten by Dyson.

“Fine,” I told her, “I’ll monitor Dyson from a distance, but if he tries anything, I’m going in!”